


Of all the universes, in all the worlds, she had to walk into mine.

by churchofyourcurves



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beauty and the Beast AU, F/F, Grim reaper au, Oneshot, Pushing Daisies AU, blind date au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchofyourcurves/pseuds/churchofyourcurves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a birthday present for one of my awesome friends, I'm attempting a week of Hollstein oneshots uploaded on the daily. These will take place in a variety of different universes, eras and themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To the end of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so this is just a bit of fun for the kickass [connectthedots67](http://connecthedots67.tumblr.com/) whose birthday is coming up (on Nov 2, if you want to wish her a happy birthday :D). I'll be exploring some different AUs and situations, some of these will be short and some will stretch a bit longer, but they're all intended as snapshots.
> 
> The first one will be kicking off set in the 19th century(ish).
> 
> Enjoy x

Laura Hollis pulled her belt higher up so that it was resting on her hips, rather than dragging down onto her right thigh. When she’d first put it on its tightest size had been laughably large on her, so she’d had to knot it at the front, weaving the end of the strap through the metal buckle a few times and hoping that it would hold.

She took in a deep breath, thick with the smell of fish and the sea, and strode into the docks with her head held high and her hand on the pistol tucked into her belt. The sounds of fishmongers selling their wares, the steady clunk of the wharves against the rock wall, and bells tolling the return of ships, exploded around her. Alive and full, in a way that her home district had never been.

No, not home district, she corrected herself, the Burrows.

As a fishmonger slapped a fish down on the table next to her, sending up a spray of guts and blood, Laura reminded herself that she would never be going back. Not to the balls, not to the dresses, not to the marriage her father had arranged.

She pulled harder on the strap of her duffel bag, tucking the bulk of it under her left arm, while her right held onto her belt and pistol. She felt ridiculous in the clothes she’d stolen from the groundskeeper, but they had done their job. With the baggy clothes, her hair piled on top of her head and stuffed under a fisherman’s cap, and the soot that she’d carefully smeared on her face, she was unremarkable in the crowd.

She walked through the stalls, eyeing the crates of fresh fish that were lain out for display, and resisting the urge to hold her nose as she walked through. She’d only ever encountered already-cooked fish, and seeing them fresh like this made a hard lump rise in her throat. It was nauseating to watch the fishmongers slice the fish open with deadly looking knives, spilling their guts across the wooden tables. They moved with precision, the knives little more than a quick flash in the sun as they prepared the fish for customers.

Some of the fishmongers would talk to the buyer as they did it, voices loud to rise over the din, others would work in silence and barely look up from their table. As she rounded the end of the row, a pair of fishmongers burst into boisterous laughter and Laura started, her grip on the pistol tightening.

After clearing the stalls area, she was confronted with the collection of bobbing wharves and ships of all shapes and sizes. Some of them were tiny, hardly enough space for three people, full of nets and other fishing equipment, while others were much larger. She walked along the docks, staring up at the wooden beasts, until she reached the far end and there waited the grandest of them all.

It wasn’t the largest - that honour belonged to a trading ship that was designed for long journeys with a lot of cargo - but it was the most impressive looking. Three masts towered up from the deck, the sails still furled around the horizontal spars that ran the width of the ship.

The ship wasn’t that wide, but it was long, and it looked like it could cut through water like a hot knife through butter. At the front of the ship, a bare-breasted mermaid clung to the bow, and Laura averted her eyes out of habit.

“You!”

Laura froze, wanting to run, but knowing she had done nothing wrong. It wasn’t against the law to stand on the Docks, but her mind worked quickly and imagined that her father had found her somehow.

“Boy!”

Perhaps not.

“Hey, you!”

Laura turned away from the shouting, which was coming from the fishmongers stalls, and started to walk quickly towards where the docks ended, hoping that there would be a walking space between the large wooden warehouse to her right and the water.

The sound of running followed her and she broke into a sprint, gripping onto her bag and the pistol, so that there was nothing to keep her cap on her head as the fierce wind from the sea sent it flying, letting her hair tumble down in long waves down her shoulders.

When she reached the edge of the dock she saw that there was no such space between the warehouse and the water, so instead she turned to the left, the wharf where the ship was docked. Without looking behind her, she ran there, and darted up the gangplank, making the plank of wood shudder under her feet.

She tripped on the lip of the deck, but caught herself, managing to fall into a crouch. The gangplank behind her clattered as the person followed, but before she could stand, she heard their footsteps stop abruptly.

She raised her head, curious as to what had caused them to stop, and spotted someone lounging on the hammock nettings that she hadn’t seen in her haste to board the ship. They swung out of the hammock, landing easily on the deck and Laura couldn’t help but be impressed.

She was a woman - she couldn’t have been much older than Laura - wearing a sailor’s dark navy clothes, and a grey kersey wool jacket that fit her perfectly. Her dark hair was wild, thick with waves, and looked like it had been rubbed raw by the sea, ropes, and wind. Her eyes, however, were the most striking. So dark that they were almost black, but still somehow electric, they reminded Laura of the way the stray cat that lived next to her school would look at people as they walked past. Steady, still, but dangerous all the same.

“What are you doing on my ship?”

Laura was ready to reply, when she realised that the woman wasn’t talking to her, she was talking to the person behind her.

“I- I thought-”

Nothing more needed to be said, Laura heard the person behind her retreat hastily, leaving her alone with this sailor on the deck of a ship that she certainly didn’t belong on.

“I hope you have a better reason than he did.”

Laura raised her eyes from the wooden planks of the deck, to meet the sailor’s.

“I... wasn’t thinking.” She ducked her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

Laura glanced back up and instead of danger, there was now curiosity. She tossed up between telling the truth and lying, before deciding that there would be no point. This sailor was surely better at knowing if someone was lying, than Laura was at lying.

“I’m not.”

The sailor stepped forward, and Laura felt rooted to the spot as her black eyes dragged slowly up and down Laura’s body. Laura had never felt as naked as she did under this woman’s stare, but for some reason she had no urge to hide from it.

“These-” the sailor pinched at Laura’s clothes as she walked around her “-are not your clothes. And this-” she ran a finger down Laura’s cheek, gathering the soot, and then rubbing it in between her pointer and thumb “-is not from labour.”

The sailor’s eyes slid from the soot she had rubbed between her fingers, to Laura’s face, and Laura’s breath caught in her throat.

“No,” she admitted, her voice hoarse from the sailor being so close.

The sailor nodded, satisfied, and stepped back out of her space, letting Laura feel like she could breathe again.

“So what are you doing here? I assume you’re far from home.”

Laura stuck her chin up, meeting the sailor’s eyes defiantly. “I have no home.”

The sailor’s lips curled up in a way that made Laura’s stomach drop and her dislike for the sailor grow. “You want to run away with a ship crew. Make some grand voyage, like in all of your favourite books.” The sailor leaned forward again, and the oxygen pressed itself out of Laura’s lungs. “The seas are nothing like the tales, princess.”

“I don’t expect them to be,” Laura replied, the dislike growing further and pushing past the feeling of breathlessness.

The sailor arched her eyebrow. “Does a months long journey on a boat with a crew of the dishonourable sound like something you’re interested in then?”

“Is that an offer?” Laura challenged.

“We do need more crew,” the sailor mused. “Have you ever mopped before, princess?”

A hot flush crept up the back of Laura’s neck as she lied, “Of course.”

“Well then,” she replied as she offered Laura her hand, “welcome aboard.”

Laura shook it. “Laura.”

The sailor’s head tilted, not letting go of her hand, although they’d stopped shaking. “Carmilla.”

The sailor, Carmilla, let go and pulled herself back onto the hammock netting before Laura had a chance to respond.

“Wait,” Laura called, her voice faltering slightly.

There was a pause and then Carmilla’s head appeared at the edge of the netting. “Yes, princess?”

“Where are we going?”

Carmilla’s smile grew, turning wicked. “Why, the end of the world.”


	2. I'd kiss you if it wouldn't kill me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pushing Daisies AU.
> 
> Laura Hollis is the Piemaker who can touch dead things and bring them back to life. Carmilla Karnstein is the first girl she fell in love with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my fave tragically cancelled shows, I've tried to meld the two into this attempt at cuteness. If you haven't watched it you can (hopefully) still enjoy it. If you have, you can come cry to me about Pushing Daisies being cancelled way too soon.

At this moment, Laura Hollis was 28 years, 9 months, 4 days and 11 minutes old. She was known as the Piemaker, owner and pastry chef of ‘The Pie Hole’. But Laura Hollis wasn’t just a Piemaker, she also had a very special gift.

Laura Hollis could touch dead things and bring them back to life.

This gift came with a few caveats. Namely, she could only bring things back to life for sixty seconds or another life would be taken in its place; and that upon second contact the alive-again thing would be dead once more - forever.

It was a gift that had bred a distinct dislike of physical contact in the Piemaker, who spent her days baking pies and inadvertently avoiding the affections of the Pie Hole waitress, Danny Lawrence.

Danny Lawrence was currently meant to be setting up the display for the day’s pies in the passthrough, but the sight of the Piemaker in the kitchen had distracted her. Struck with a swirl of emotions, Danny watched the Piemaker with an affectionate devotion and let out a soft pining sigh. However, the Piemaker was too focused on the blueberry pie she was putting into the oven to notice Danny, or her devotion.

“She doesn’t see you that way,” LaFontaine mumbled from behind the newspaper they were reading while sitting at the half-circle bar. There weren’t any other customers in the Pie Hole, it being ten o’clock in the morning and most people preferring their dessert pies at a later hour of the day.

Danny snapped out of her trance, and busied herself with cleaning the coffee machine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The Private Detective snorted, but didn’t bother to move the paper aside as they pushed their empty plate forward. “Apricot, please.”

Danny rolled her eyes and prepared a slice of apricot pie. “Are you going to pay for this one?”

“I always pay for my pies.”

Their answer was met with a disbelieving silence, as Danny held the piece of pie hostage until she received a better answer. LaFontaine let the top half of the newspaper drop, their eyes narrowed at Danny’s interrogation methods. “I have an arrangement.”

It was at this moment that the Piemaker entered the service section of the Pie Hole through the swinging door. Her hands were clasped behind her back as she nodded a greeting towards the Private Detective. “LaFontaine.”

Danny sidled closer to Laura, and Laura glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you have an arrangement with LaFontaine?”

Laura faltered. “We have- we’re old- yes.”

Danny huffed in displeasure while LaFontaine preened, and she dumped the plate of pie in front of the Detective and went to serve the two customers who had just walked into the Pie Hole. Laura’s eyes followed Danny as she left, before she sat down next to LaFontaine.

“Arrangement?”

LaFontaine folded the paper up, placing it on the table next to them as they started to dig into the pie. “We do have an arrangement.”

“Right,” Laura agreed, “but it’s more of the ‘I touch dead people, ask them who killed them, touch them again, you collect the reward, we split it’ type thing.”

“Well,” LaFontaine said as they shoved a forkful of pie into their mouth, “it’s also a ‘you bake pies and I eat them’ type thing.”

Laura didn’t reply, just blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes with a sharp exhale.

LaFontaine picked up the folded up paper and handed it to Laura. “Front page.”

Laura unfolded the paper and started to read aloud, “The body of a lonely tourist was discovered after having fallen overboard a Star Lines cruise ship... Is this a case?”

“Well, I’m not just here for pie.”

Laura continued to skim the rest of the article. A plastic bag had also been found over the tourist’s head - igniting police suspicion, and so promising a generous reward.

“What’s her name?”

“Carmilla Karnstein,” LaFontaine replied around a mouthful of pie.

With that name, the Piemaker felt as if all of the oxygen in the room had very suddenly left it.

“You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” LaFontaine considered their words and added, “Actually, I’ve seen your ghost face, and this is not it. This is paler.” They examined her closer. “Sweatier.”

Laura stood jerkily, causing the newspaper to tumble to the floor. “I’m fine. Great. I just, I forgot that I have a pie in the oven and I should check on that. Excuse me.”

The Piemaker quickly pushed her way into the back kitchen, and leaned against the strip of wall between the door and the passthrough. Even with the coolness of the tiles at her back, the Piemaker couldn’t help but feel a mix of trepidation and thrill.

You see, to Laura Hollis, lonely tourist Carmilla Karnstein wasn’t just a lonely tourist who had met her untimely end.

Laura Hollis had been 6 years, 1 month, 3 weeks, and 26 minutes old when Carmilla Karnstein had moved in across the road from her. Carmilla Karnstein - 5 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, and 15 minutes old - had hopped out of the moving truck with such grace that Laura’s toy dinosaurs remained forgotten on the windowsill as she watched the girl get plucked up by her father and placed atop his shoulders as he ran around the front lawn with her laughing joyfully.

Laura Hollis had been 6 years, 1 month, 3 weeks, and 28 minutes old when she fell in love with Carmilla Karnstein.

The two became fast friends, being the only children on the block between the ages of 3 and 12 years old, and soon began to spend all of their time together. They would wear colourful creature costumes, sewn lovingly by Carmilla’s father, and wreak destruction on small Play-Doh towns with small Play-Doh people that had taken them three minutes to build and three seconds to stomp underfoot.

For Laura, these were the treasured of all her memories, locked away in a special part of her mind, to be taken out at the most grim of times.

Which was why the mix of trepidation and thrill had filled Laura at the mention of Carmilla’s name. The mix had not only confused Laura, but also the Private Detective, who at the moment was eyeing the kitchen door and taking their last bite of pie as they wondered what had their crime-solving partner so spooked.

\---

“What has you so spooked?”

They were currently driving to Carmilla Karnstein’s funeral in Laura’s hometown of Couer d’Couers, LaFontaine in the driver’s seat and Laura squirming next to them in the passenger seat.

Couer d’Couers was a sprawling county, the hills beaming bright yellow with flowers, while the sun shone overhead. There was only one road that connected Couer d’Couers to the highway. This road, the one they were currently driving on, wound through the flower-blanketed hills, but it wasn’t the winding of the road that was making Laura Hollis’ stomach swirl.

Laura swallowed hard and replied to the question in the exact manner that a spooked person would reply to it, with another question. “I’m not spooked, why would you think I was spooked?”

“You haven’t stopped gripping the edge of the seat since we got in the car.” LaFontaine nodded down to where Laura was indeed gripping the edge of the seat.

Laura quickly let go, and instead folded her hands in her lap, her thumbs flicking against each other. “So I may not have been entirely honest.”

The Detective’s eyebrows rose. “You lied?”

“I didn’t lie, lying implies telling someone a fact dishonestly,” Laura replied, “I just omitted the truth.”

“You lied,” LaFontaine deadpanned.

Laura bit her lip. “I know the lonely tourist.”

“Carmilla Karnstein.”

“Carm,” Laura automatically corrected. “Yes.”

“Knew her how?” the Detective pressed further.

“We were friends, childhood-” Laura’s eye twitched. “We lived across the road from each other.”

“And you omitted this because?”

Laura felt like all of the truths she had yet to say were building up in her stomach, and that they would soon come rushing out of her like a balloon losing all its air in one go. But this wasn’t the time or the place to let them go rushing out, so instead she clasped her hands together and said, “I thought you might not let me come.”

This was the truth, but only part of it. The rest of the sentence went: and I would really like to see Carmilla Karnstein, she was the first girl I loved and, with my intimacy issues, the only.

The Detective seemed to detect that Laura had swallowed down the rest of a sentence, because they held a suspicious look on her for as long as possible before they had to return their attention to the road ahead. Driving along winding roads did not leave time for many suspicious looks.

When they arrived at the funeral home, a narrow building that had no reason to be narrow as the land it was built on was absurdly wide, LaFontaine turned to face Laura completely and pinned her with the most suspicious of looks that they could.

“You better not be omitting any more.”

“I’m not,” Laura lied.

“I don’t like it when people omit.”

“No omitting,” the Piemaker lied again.

LaFontaine hummed, their eyes narrowed in disbelief, but when Laura quickly got out of the car and started towards the front porch of the funeral home, they followed her.

The foyer of the funeral home was lush, with a thick wall-to-wall green carpet, and bold, dark wooden walls lined with paintings and sculptures that looked far too expensive for a funeral home. Laura Hollis didn’t notice any of this though, she only noticed the growing swirling of her stomach, and the way her heart was beating so hard it felt like it was trying to escape her ribcage.

They reached the room that Carmilla was being kept and Laura turned on her toe, blocking LaFontaine from the doorway.

“Do you mind if I, ah, do this alone?”

This only further aggravated LaFontaine’s suspicion. “Alone? Why?”

“I have something- it’s- it’s personal? I just have something I need to say and it’s not case-related and I wouldn’t feel comfortable saying it in front of you and I think you would be just as uncomfortable hearing it.” There was a beat of silence and Laura added a toothy grin, as if that would sway the Detective one way or another.

LaFontaine eyed her for a long moment. “Fine,” they agreed, “but you ask about the case first.”

“Alright.”

Nodding, they moved back into the foyer.

Laura Hollis took in a deep breath, before turning and opening the door.

She pushed her way into the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind her and turning the lock. It wouldn’t do to have bereaved grievers enter to find Carmilla alive again. The wooden casket was closed, and Laura approached it slowly, feeling like her whole life had lead to this moment and, in a way, it had.

The Piemaker opened the lid of the casket and felt a sudden rush, as if a fresh breath of air had been forced into her lungs as she looked down at the girl who she hadn’t seen in twenty years.

Carmilla’s dark hair framed her face, the waves curving their way down either side, and her cheeks had been painted a light pink colour to emulate life. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress, one that Laura knew even after twenty years wouldn’t have been a choice of hers, but of her aunts that had taken custody of her upon her father’s death.

She looked nothing like the girl she’d known, and far too much like her, at the same time. It made what Laura was about to do that much harder, but she knew it had to be done.

She set the timer on her watch - one minute, only sixty seconds - and stared down at the woman, wondering where she should touch her. The hand? Too impersonal. The lips? Too forward. The cheek?

 _The cheek_.

She reached forward, and brushed her fingertips as gently as she could across Carmilla’s cheek.

Carmilla gasped to life and grabbed Laura by the jacket, pulling her down hard so that her forehead collided with the open lid of the casket and sent her stumbling back, groaning and holding her face. Carmilla leapt out of the casket, and grabbed a nearby folding chair, brandishing it in front of her to ward off what she assumed to be an attacker.

“Carm, wait!” Laura blinked the disorientation out of her mind as she focused on the alive-again girl in front of her.

Carmilla frowned, thrusting the chair forward slightly as she demanded, “Who the hell are you?”

Laura held up her hands in defence, not wanting to aggravate the girl and suffer an assault by chair. “Do you remember a girl who lived across the road from you when you were young? We used to destroy Play Doh towns, and you always called me pastries.” Laura paused, considering. “Except, weirdly enough, never pie-related pastries even though my mom always baked them and I’m actually a Piemaker now, which-”

Realisation dawned on Carmilla’s face, and she lowered the chair. “Laura?”

Laura smiled self-consciously, her previous tangent forgotten. “Hey. Hi.”

Carmilla let the chair drop, staring at the Piemaker with a look of wonder. “I haven’t seen you in...”

“Twenty years,” Laura finished for her.

Carmilla’s eyes skated over Laura, taking in the jeans, plain shirt, and blazer that Laura had spent hours anguishing over before choosing. “You look great, cupcake.”

Laura blushed. “No, you-”

Carmilla looked down. “Oh God, what am I wearing? Did my aunts-?” She frowned. “The last thing I remember was...” Her eyes darted around the room, to the open casket she’d just gotten out of, to the folding chairs, and then finally returning to Laura. “Am I dead?”

Laura winced.

“And now,” Carmilla continued, “I’m not?”

“Only for the next-” Laura checked her watch “-28 seconds. This is sort of what I do.”

Carmilla’s eyebrows arched up. “Bring back the dead?”

“To avenge their murders?” Laura meant it as a reply, but it came out with the cadence rise of a question. To make up for the unsurety in her voice, she cleared her throat, and asked, “So, do you know who killed you?”

Carmilla’s eyes settled on her casket. “No, they came up behind me while I was getting ice,” she said in a voice that sounded very small and very far away.

The Piemaker felt the sudden, and out of character, urge to offer comfort through physical contact. Ironically, it was this urge that made her _not_ want to touch the alive-again girl and render her dead again forever.

Laura was so caught up in staring at the girl who had once lived next door, who now looked more pensive than she had ever seen her, that her watch alarm going off made her jump.

“Is that my time?” Carmilla asked, her eyes drifting back over to Laura.

Unable to find her voice, Laura simply nodded.

They both stared at each other, Carmilla’s eyes sad and Laura’s heartbroken, until Carmilla gave a breath of a laugh and her sadness was covered with a dry smile. “Well, I’m glad I got to see you again. You know, before I...” She didn’t finish the sentence, she didn’t have to. “It was nice.”

“You were my first kiss,” tumbled out of the Piemaker’s mouth before she could stop it. Perhaps it was all the truths she had been keeping inside, but for whatever the reason, this one slipped free from her lips, and she grimaced at the bluntness of it.

Carmilla’s smile evolved to genuine, her eyes shining brightly. “You were mine too.” Then, the mischievous smirk that had so often gotten the two of them in trouble as children crossed her lips and she leaned forward. “Do you want to be my last? Seems only fair.”

The Piemaker’s heart flew at the words, despite what the consequence of them would be. She nodded, and Carmilla’s eyes slid closed as she leaned forward, her lips puckered just so. Laura let her eyes run over the face of the girl who used to live next door one last time, before closing them, and leaning forward to meet her...

Except, she couldn’t will herself to go any further.

Instead, her eyes opened again, and she held the girl next door in her gaze, until Carmilla’s eyes opened and she regarded the Piemaker curiously.

“What if you didn’t have to be dead?”

This question, while boding well for Carmilla, boded very unfortunately for the funeral director in the bathroom next door, who had a penchant for robbing the bodies that came through his funeral home. It seemed that the funeral director who had taken so much from the deceased, would now give his life for one of them.

LaFontaine heard the thump of the funeral director’s body hitting the floor and was about to investigate further, when the Piemaker slipped out of Carmilla Karnstein’s room and shut the door firmly behind her.

“What did you find out?”

“She didn’t see anything, doesn’t-didn’t know anything.” Laura took the Detective by the elbow and started to lead them back to the entrance of the funeral home. “I’m going to stay, pay my respects, deal with my grief, you know, funeral stuff. I’ll get the bus home.” They reached the front door and Laura put herself between the Detective and the room she’d just come from.

LaFontaine peered over Laura’s shoulder suspiciously, but the Piemaker just shifted back into their line of sight. “You should leave before Great Uncle Marcus gets here, he just goes on and on and on about his bunions and you can never get him to stop, even if you ask.”

With a slightly disgusted look, LaFontaine finally left the funeral home, and the Piemaker let out a relieved breath.

When she re-entered the room, she found Carmilla leaning against the closed casket, with a bemused expression. “Great Uncle Marcus?”

“I had to say something.”

“You did well, creampuff,” the alive-again girl reassured her, smoothing out her yellow sundress with her palms. “Now, let’s find my murderer, shall we?”

A smile bloomed on Laura’s face, and the Piemaker was suddenly very grateful that the girl who had once lived next door had come back into her life, even if it had taken her getting murdered to do it.

As the girl named Carm snuck out of the funeral home’s back entrance with the Piemaker, she asked, “So, does this mean that we can’t kiss?”

The strangled sound that Laura made caused Carmilla to beam at her, with the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. In that moment, the Piemaker and the girl she had brought back to life shared their first tender smile while sneaking out of somewhere they weren’t meant to be. And there would be many more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you wanna come chill with me and get emotional about fictional characters, hmu at my tumblr [churchofyourcurves](http://churchofyourcurves.tumblr.com/)


	3. Eye of the beholder.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blind Date AU.
> 
> Laura Hollis goes on a blind date on her birthday. It does not go brilliantly.

“This is so embarrassing,” Laura said to herself as she smoothed down her black dress and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“It’s not embarrassing!” Perry called from the kitchen. Laura hadn’t even known she was in earshot, but given how many times Laura had repeated the statement, maybe she didn’t have to be.

Laura sighed, untucking the hair from behind her ears, and heading into the lounge room that joined onto the kitchen. “It is! I mean, it’s my birthday and I’m going on a blind date. Who even does that?”

Perry entered the lounge room carrying a cupcake with one unlit candle sticking out of it. “People who are...” Perry gestured vaguely, cycling her hand as she searched for the words, before finally settling on, “Adventurous!” Perry lit the candle and nodded towards it. “Now, make a wish.”

Laura looked down at the chocolate and vanilla cupcake. “We already had a cake at lunch.”

“Yes, but this is for luck!” Perry insisted, nodding to the candle more emphatically. “Blow!”

Laura let out a sigh and leaned forward, blowing out the candle with a sharp exhale.

\---

Carmilla leaned against the wall, one hand thrust into her jacket pocket and the other one scrolling through her phone.

She’d been waiting for ten minutes, another five and she’d be going. It was a miracle that she hadn’t left already. She didn’t like to be kept waiting. Especially when she had already been fifteen minutes late.

Laura ran up from the underground subway station, taking two steps at a time and throwing apologies over her shoulder as she pushed her way through the slow-moving crowd. She was late, like really, really late.

She rounded the corner, colliding with a very solid, very tall person, which caused her purse to go flying, and spill all of her belongings across the footpath.

“Oh my God, I’m so, so, so sorry!” Laura dropped to her knees immediately, quickly grabbing the contents of her purse and shoving them back inside.

The man she’d collided into just grimaced, told her it was okay, and handed her back the tampons that had gone flying from her bag.

“Thank you, I’m sorry!”

He offered her one last reassuring smile before continuing on his way, and she let out a long sigh as she finished stuffing all her things back into her purse. She looked up and standing there, leaning against the outside wall of the restaurant, clad in supremely well-fitting clothes that were the thing of plaid-and-leather dreams, was Carmilla.

Perry had shown her Carmilla’s Facebook display picture - some photo that had clearly been taken by someone else of her side-profile as she looked off into the distance (which was kind of pretentious, but if Laura had a jaw like that she’d probably have the same) - but seeing her in person was... Wow. Holy queen of aloof sneering.

Meanwhile, Laura was crouched on the sidewalk, with the tips of several tampons still poking out of her purse.

She stood up suddenly, jamming everything into her bag as much as she could and closed the space between them, holding her hand out. “Hi, Carmilla?”

Carmilla eyed Laura’s purse, and then her gaze slowly drifted up from it to Laura’s face. “Yeah,” she drawled, as if it took all of her energy to say the word.

Ignoring the way the back of her neck was flushed with embarrassment, and grateful that she’d left her hair down, Laura gestured to the narrow entrance of the restaurant. “Do you want to go in?”

Carmilla gave a half-attempt at a nod, and stalked in. Laura followed, trying to rearrange the contents of her purse as she went so that she could close it again and move onto hopefully improving the ridiculous first impression that she’d made.

The restaurant was a cafe-bookshop during the day, which transitioned into a busy restaurant at night. Laura had walked past it many times, always meaning to go in, so she’d jumped at the location when Perry had mentioned it as Carmilla’s favourite place to go.

There were stacks of second-hand books jammed into shelves and piled along the walls. The window next to the front door had been swung open, so that it was flat against the wall, and had a table top balanced on the windowsill, with a chair on the inside and one on the outside, for more table space. Which they really needed, because the place was absolutely packed. There was barely enough room to move between the tiny tables that could only just fit two sets of plates, cutlery and glasses, and were so short that everyone was hunched over, while sitting on small stools with chipped away paint.

Laura stumbled on an uneven floorboard, almost falling into Carmilla’s back, but she managed to catch herself so she just sort of... _pressed_ against her back. A better alternative, but she could feel Carmilla tense up at the contact and she was fairly sure it had been counted as yet another strike against her.

The waitress finally reached the only free table in the place, crammed into the corner so tightly that Laura couldn’t pull out her chair to sit in it and instead had to slide into it awkwardly, while gripping onto the hem of her dress with one hand and using her other one to steady herself against the table top. The table rocked under her hand and she did her best to swallow down the yelp as she awkwardly half-fell, half-slipped into her stool, her back hitting the bookshelf behind her.

Carmilla just raised a single eyebrow as she smoothly slipped into her seat.

The waitress handed them each a menu. “Can I get you any drinks to start?”

“Glass of white wine,” Laura replied, perhaps a little too quickly. She glanced at Carmilla and then meekly added, “Please. Thank you.”

The waitress looked to Carmilla expectantly, who just said, “Water, thanks.”

Once the waitress left to get their drink orders, they sat in silence, looking over the menu. After a few minutes, Laura glanced up at Carmilla over the laminated sheet.

“So, I like this place.”

Carmilla glanced up, her face blank. “Excuse me?”

Laura grimaced and raised her voice over the sound of the people conversing around them and the alt-trance music blaring from the speakers. “I said, I like this place!”

Carmilla nodded absently, eyeing the person at the table behind her as they took off their jacket and almost hit her shoulder. “I’ve never come here at night. It’s...” Laura held her breath as she waited to see how Carmilla would finish that sentence. Carmilla forced a smile that looked more like a pained baring of her teeth, “Different.”

Laura’s stomach sunk.

The waitress dropped off their drinks - the glasses sweating in the heat of the restaurant - and brought out her notepad, ready to take their order. As the waitress’ pen hovered over the pad Laura realised that she couldn’t recall a single item on the menu.

“Can you give us another few minutes?” Carmilla asked, and the waitress went to go before Carmilla called out with just the slightest hint of desperation, “And, can I get a pinot noir?”

The waitress nodded and went to fetch Carmilla her wine, and Laura took a long gulp of hers as she watched the woman in front of her look around as if she searching for a way to escape.

By the time Carmilla’s wine came, Laura had already finished her glass and ordered another one. The waitress’ eyebrows rose as she did, but she nodded anyway, and went back to get the glass of wine with a swiftness that made Laura sure that the waitress knew what was happening.

Once the second glass of wine arrived, Laura took another generous sip and said, “So this is pretty much the worst first date ever.”

Carmilla choked on her wine, sending a flurry of bubbles into the glass. She put down the glass, and her hand went to her mouth to wipe the errant drops of red wine that had trailed down from her lips. When her hand dropped, Laura was relieved to see that there was a wry smile on her lips, the first time tonight that she hadn’t looked just unimpressed. Now she was unimpressed and mildly entertained, which was totally an improvement.

“I’ve had worse.”

Laura pulled a face. “You have not.”

“I haven’t,” Carmilla admitted, and Laura couldn’t help but be a little charmed that the woman tried to lie to make her feel better.

“What did LaFontaine tell you about me?” Laura asked, the honesty that was now between them giving her the confidence to ask about what she was most curious.

Carmilla considered her, and Laura wondered if she was choosing her words carefully. “They said Perry was your floor don in college. You were a journalism major, and now you work for a digital company. And that you...”

Carmilla downed the rest of her glass, and she was barely done swallowing before Laura asked, “I what?”

“Are intense,” Carmilla finished, and something in her eyes seemed victorious in a way that was just cocky enough that Laura felt more attracted to her than annoyed.

“Right.”

Carmilla didn’t ask how Perry had described her, and Laura got the distinct feeling that she didn’t care.

The waitress arrived with another glass of wine for Carmilla, taking the empty one away, and Laura wondered when she’d ordered it or if the waitress had just decided to prioritise them because of the excruciating awkwardness emanating from their table.

“Well, at least there’s wine,” Laura declared cheerfully. “This actually isn’t the worst birthday I’ve ever had - that title belongs to my seventh birthday when Jake Toran pushing my face into the cake and then my Labrador chased me around the backyard trying to lick it off, before I fell over and broke my arm.”

The hilarious, if scarring, birthday anecdote failed to land as Carmilla just quirked an eyebrow and stated bluntly, “It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah.” Laura frowned and asked, “Did LaFontaine not mention it?”

“I thought they were joking. I mean,” Carmilla scoffed, “who goes on a blind date on their birthday?”

Laura’s cheeks coloured. “I had a lunch for it. It’s not weird. I have friends.”

Carmilla didn’t respond to Laura’s defensive outburst, and it was worse than if she had.

With her embarrassment reaching peak levels, Laura realised that it would be a lot better for her self esteem right now if she just cut and run. She’d never cut a date short before, in fact, she’d never really _had_ a bad date before. Sure, she’d had not great dates, but bad? No. And she would very much like for it to be over so that she could comfort herself with ice cream, Netflix and bed.

“Okay-” Laura gulped down the last of the wine “-I think I’m going to go. Lick my wounds. Eat my body weight in ice cream. It was nice to meet you.”

She put her purse strap over her shoulder and went to stand, except it was the moment that the couple next to them had decided to leave too, because she ended up getting hit in the nose by the girl’s arm as she put on her jacket. Laura let loose a pained grunt, clutching the bridge of her nose and waving off the torrent of apologies from the person who had accidentally punched her in the face.

She smiled at the couple through watering eyes, assuring them that she was fine, and when they finally left she looked over to where the hint of a smile was dancing across Carmilla’s lips.

Before she could demanded to know why this seemed to entertain her, Carmilla cocked her head towards the exit. “Come on, I know a bar down the road, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Laura wasn’t quite ready to let go of her throbbing nose yet so she just mumbled, “Okay,” in a feeble voice through her cupped hands.

The bar was just as busy as the restaurant with the Saturday night crowd, but it was far larger, with a generously high ceiling, so it didn’t feel cramped. Plus, there were plenty of nooks and corners, so it was easy to find a spot tucked away from the bulk of the crowd.

Carmilla had gone to the bar to get them drinks when Laura checked her phone.

Perry: How’s it going?? I know she can be a little direct, but I hope you’re having a good time. If anyone can charm her, it’s you!!

Laura sighed, tenderly touching her still aching nose as she replied.

Laura: Not feeling super charming tonight. So far I’ve managed to set the record for the clumsiest human being on the planet. Actual worst date ever.

Perry: Oh no!!!

The transparent ellipsis bubble popped up on the screen, but Carmilla reappeared in Laura’s line of sight, so she stuffed her phone back into her purse before she could see Perry’s next message.

“Sorry,” Carmilla apologised, looking mildly irritated. “Some guy was hitting on me.”

“Oh. Oh! Did you want to...?” Laura waved her hand back towards the bar. With the official bomb status of their date, she wouldn’t blame the other woman for wanting to go to greener pastures. After paying for the two glasses of wine at the restaurant, and an extra one now, Laura felt like she owed her.

Carmilla’s lips puckered with distaste - okay, so maybe not so green pastures. “I’m good.”

Laura eyed the brown liquid in Carmilla’s glass tumbler. “Moved onto the hard stuff?”

“They stock a rum here that I like.”

“Oh.”

Laura knew absolutely nothing about rum apart from the fact that it was in Pina Coladas.

“It’s 23 years old,” Carmilla explained, as if Laura was a rum expert, “they age it in a barrel.”

“Cool.” Laura tried desperately to not think that Carmilla was pretentious, but the word sing-songed in her head anyway. Feeling guilty for that, she feigned interest and asked, “Does that change the taste?”

Carmilla nodded, offering the glass forward. “Do you want to try it?”

“You know what, I’m actually okay.” Laura held up her wine glass. “I try not to mix alcohols. Gives me the worst hangovers.” Not a lie, but not the truth in this case - Laura just got no enjoyment out of drinking straight liquor, and she didn’t want to have to fake a reaction for Ms Barrel Aged Rum.

Again, they fell into an uncomfortable silence. Jazz music filtered through the bar, thankfully loud enough that Laura could pretend she was intently listening to it as she nodded along to the beat.

“I’m sorry.”

Laura looked at the brunette, surprise written across her face.

“I...” Carmilla frowned. “I had a bad break up.”

“Oh.”

“Five years ago.”

“ _Oh_.”

“She...” Carmilla shook her head, dismissing the rest of the sentence. “It’s not important. And I haven’t really dated. At all.”

“I’m your first date in five years?” Laura squeaked.

Carmilla nodded, and there was something about the way she was looking at Laura out of the top of her eyes, that made Laura think of a guilty pet.

“That’s okay, you’re doing great!” Laura lied.

Carmilla scoffed and swirled the liquid in her glass. “Come on, cupcake. We both know this is probably the biggest train wreck of a date in the recent history of the world.”

“Okay, yeah,” Laura agreed, “but that is mostly my fault.”

Carmilla eyed her dubiously, but didn’t contradict her.

“I think that you’re brave. Doing a blind date after all this time.”

“It wasn’t really my choice,” Carmilla muttered darkly.

“Well, okay...” Laura stood suddenly, gathering her purse and drink and said, “Wait here.”

She walked off to one of the brick pillars in the bar, and stood behind it, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The third glass of wine had started to buzz through her system, and that was what gave her the courage to do what she was doing now. She downed the rest of her glass, put it on a nearby table, and walked back towards Carmilla, this time very careful not to run into anyone or spill the contents of her purse everywhere. Carmilla watched her approach with a bemused expression.

When Laura reached her, she stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Laura. Perry’s told me _so_ much about you, it’s really awesome to meet you for this _non_ -date, just-friends hang out.” Laura sat down across from Carmilla with a bright smile. “This is a really cool bar, thank you for suggesting it.”

Carmilla’s bemused expression had melted into a warm one, her eyes incredibly bright even though the corners of her lips barely twitched up. She shook Laura’s hand, her grip firm but gentle. “Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you wanna come chill with me and get emotional about fictional characters, hmu at my tumblr [churchofyourcurves](http://churchofyourcurves.tumblr.com/)


	4. I am become death(ish).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grim reaper AU.
> 
> This was so not how Laura pictured spending her afterlife. She had figured it would be never-ending milkshakes, and angels with tiny harps. Reaping the souls of people who had just passed away with one of the most frustrating and amoral people on the planet did not factor anywhere into her plan.
> 
> (This runs along the same vein as Dead Like Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sick rn so apologies if there are any errors. Also, I seem to have gone on a bit of a 2000s Bryan Fuller TV shows kick, which has been great fun.

Okay, so Laura Hollis hadn’t been a grim reaper for very long (4 days, 3 hours and 11 minutes to be exact), but she was fairly sure they weren’t meant to steal from the dead.

Like, 80% sure.

The rules were kind of weird, and Perry had gotten distracted during her explanation by the fire that LaFontaine had accidentally set in her kitchen, so Laura was kind of fuzzy on them.

Okay, so, 75% sure.

“ Relax, cupcake,” Carmilla practically  _ purred  _ as she unclasped the gold bracelet from the elderly woman’s wrist and pocketed it. “You are entirely too uptight.”

They were currently at the Sunset Nursing Home, room 243, which had previously been the private room of one Mrs Gertrude Goldfarb, until she had passed away in her sleep ten minutes ago. It was apparent from the collection of porcelain figurines around the room that Mrs Goldfarb was a fan of ducks and sad clowns. A framed photo of her and her late husband, Frank Goldfarb, stared at Laura from her bedside table.

“ You are  _ stealing  _ from a  _ dead person _ ,” Laura hissed over her shoulder. She had her back to Carmilla, unable to watch, and worried that at any moment someone might check on Mrs Goldfarb and find them.

(Rule number 3: You are not invisible to people. Don’t get caught.) 

This was so not how Laura pictured spending her afterlife. She had figured it would be never-ending milkshakes, and angels with tiny harps. Reaping the souls of people who had just passed away with one of the most frustrating and amoral people on the planet did not factor anywhere into her plan.

“I prefer to call them ‘forever at peace’.” Carmilla put her palms together in a mock prayer, and then she started going through the drawers of the bedside table.

Laura pulled a face, turning to glare at Carmilla, because the girl really deserved it. “Oh, please, you call them ‘worm food’.”

“So you do listen to me.” Carmilla closed the drawer and sent Laura a smirk that made Laura’s hands clench into fists. “That is so sweet, cutie.”

Laura’s eyes went from the recently deceased Mrs Goldfarb to the door. She gritted her teeth as she asked, “Can we just leave please?”

Carmilla sighed. “Fine. But only because I’m done here and these uniforms itch.” She started to scratch her back, making the nursing home scrubs pull up at the front, exposing her hip bones and a length of smooth, taut stomach.

Laura rolled her eyes and started towards the door. As she reached for the handle, it turned in front of her and her eyes widened.

Without thinking, she dodged into the closet next to the door, pulling Carmilla in with her and shutting it just as the orderly came into the room.

The first thing Laura noticed about the closet was how cramped it was. Her nose was shoved into what she was fairly sure was a fur coat, one of her legs was caught between Carmilla’s side and the closet wall, and Carmilla’s breath was ghosting over her hair.

(The still breathing thing was weird. She had to ask Perry about that.)

The second was the smell. It was like mothballs times a million, so strong that it was practically a physical presence that had been shoved up her nostrils and was now prodding her brain.

The third was that Carmilla was right - the uniforms were incredibly itchy. With her arms trapped by her sides she couldn’t scratch her bicep, so she ended up trying to rub herself subtly against whatever was next to her. Which turned out to be Carmilla. Which she didn’t realise until she felt Carmilla grin against her and whisper, “I knew you wanted to rub up against me, cutie, but now’s not the best time.”

Laura went beet red, her cheeks radiating heat as she prayed to whatever power above that they would be able to leave because  _ oh my God  _ this was  _ so  _ not okay.

She and Carmilla waited, listening to the orderly move around the room, collecting the tray of food that had been left on Mrs Goldfarb’s table, before leaving the room again.

“Thank god for shitty public nursing homes,” Carmilla muttered.

“Can you just-?” Laura had to press herself tighter against Carmilla so that she could reach past her to grab the closet door handle, and open it. Carmilla, for her part, did not help at all, if anything she just leaned into Laura, which made Laura grunt in annoyance and shove back so that they tumbled out of the closet in a tangle of limbs and clothing.

A rush of air left Carmilla as Laura landed on her, and Laura would have apologised when she quickly got off her, except for the fact that Carmilla smirked and said, “Old lady clothes suit you, creampuff.”

Laura quickly dumped the suit jacket that reeked of mothballs and mould onto Carmilla’s face, before leaving the room, and trying to ignore the way Carmilla’s laughter rang in her head.

\---

“I don’t know why I need to work with her!” Laura exclaimed, throwing a small piece of gravel off the roof. She and Kirsch were sitting on the ledge of Perry’s building, their legs dangling over the edge as they looked out at the city’s rooftops. They did this every time before the weekly meetings. It helped in some way, to see all the human life buzzing in front of them, before they had to go and discuss death as if it was some chore.

Laura used to be scared of heights, but the whole being dead (or un-dead, or alive again, whatever you wanted to call it) thing seemed to take that away. Now, she could stare down at the ten storey drop and feel nothing but the air whip around them, her stomach a dead calm.

Kirsch shrugged, his limbs rising and collapsing in a messy way. “You don’t get to pick your partners, Hol.”

“ _ Why _ _?_ I mean, what is this whole system anyway? No one can even tell me why I’m here, why I’m doing this, at the very least you’d think I’d be able to  _ choose  _ who I’d do it with!”

“I feel you,” he agreed emphatically and Laura remembered the incessant glowering from his reaping partner, Danny.

“How is that going?” she asked carefully. The two had finally gotten over their screaming matches, but from what it looked like, Danny barely tolerated him, while he seemed to have developed a crush on her.

“Oh,” he sighed, running a hand over his hair, “you know...” He offered her a toothy grin, but weariness lined his eyes. “Could be worse.” When Laura’s eyebrows knotted with concern he bumped his shoulder against hers. “I could have Carmilla.”

“Ass,” she said, laughing as she did.

\---

“The cupcake over there almost got us caught,” Carmilla drawled.

The five of them were in Perry’s kitchen, Laura, Kirsch and Perry were sitting at a battered folding card table in the middle of the room, while Carmilla leaned against the chipped counter - worn from age, not lack of care -, and Danny stood silently in the corner with her arms folded and eyes fiery. LaFontaine was on a reaping job - why they got to go on their own while the rest of them had to partner up was such a double standard, and totally something Laura would be bringing up when she could.

Perry turned to Laura, her eyes curious and on the edge of disappointment.

“ Oh, please, I wasn’t the one  _ robbing the dead _ ,” Laura fired back.

“You were stealing again?” Perry asked in a weary voice. The ‘again’ both did and didn’t catch Laura by surprise. (A small part of her wondered how long Carmilla had been doing this. A larger part didn’t care.)

Carmilla shrugged. “They’re not going to take it with them into the next world, and a girl’s gotta eat.” To make her point, she reached over Laura to grab one of the cookies off the card table and took a big bite out of it, spraying crumbs all over Laura.

Laura’s eye twitched.

“If you get caught-” Perry started.

“-then I will use my ill-gotten gains to bail myself out of jail, rather than calling you,” Carmilla finished, sending another spray of crumbs over Laura’s head.

“While I appreciate your initiative, I’d still rather you didn’t steal.”

“I will take that on board, boss.” Carmilla saluted lazily before shoving the rest of the cookie in her mouth and returning to the counter.

Which was good, because Laura was two seconds away from wringing her neck.

“ Laura,” Perry said, “I know that the partner system can be  _ trying  _ at times, but it is there for a reason for it. Two is better than one.”

From the corner, Danny scoffed.

Perry’s expression darkened. “If you have anything to say, Miss Lawrence, please speak up.”

For a moment, Danny looked like she might say something, but instead she just tightened her arms and sucked her teeth. “I’m good.”

“Very well.” 

Perry pulled out four stationery cards, made from a thick pearly cardboard that shimmered in the light. They looked like something someone would use for wedding invitations, but these were definitely not invitations. Perry handed one to each of them, and Laura stared down at the gorgeous lettering etched across the page, and thought how weird it was that something so beautiful could be a death sentence.

\---

Laura stalked down the alleyway, her fists clenched so tight that her fingernails threatened to break the skin.

“Creampuff, get back here!” Carmilla ran after her, the sound of her leather boots hitting the wet pavement echoing on the brick walls around them.

Laura wheeled around, rounding on Carmilla with her eyes flashing. “I’m  _ not  _ reaping him! He’s a kid!”

To Laura’s satisfaction, Carmilla seemed to be caught off guard by Laura’s reaction, and she stopped in place a metre away with her hands raised. “That’s not your decision to make.”

“ Actually, it  _ is  _ my decision, and I’m making it.” Laura stuck her chin out in defiance. “I’m not going to do it.”

Carmilla let out a frustrated noise through her nose. “That’s not how it works, creampuff.”

“Stop calling me pastries!” Laura exploded.

Carmilla backed off, and Laura breathed heavily, drawing in the oxygen that she surely no longer needed.

“You think I like doing this? That I haven’t tried to cheat the system?” All the energy seemed to seep out of Carmilla, leaving her looking spent. “I had to reap a baby once. Right out of the maternity ward. You think I didn’t search for every way out that I could?”

Laura stared at Carmilla, but for once the girl seemed unable to meet her gaze.

“We live, we die. That’s how it works. And some of us get to hang around and help others move on, because, shit, I don’t know, we got lucky,” Carmilla said bluntly. “You need to learn how to accept that.”

Carmilla walked away, back towards the entrance of the alleyway where the reaping was scheduled to happen in five minutes time.

“And if I don’t?” Laura called out after her.

Carmilla stopped, and turned her face so that her profile was clear against the rays of the sun that cut into the alleyway.

“Then the soul doesn’t move on. And if you want to stick that kid’s soul in the ground with his body, then go right ahead, but I’m not staying around to watch you torture someone just because you can’t get over your own issues.”

Ten minutes later, Laura joined Carmilla on the curb. Carmilla took a bite out of the ice cream sandwich she’d bought from the streetside vendor before he’d rushed over to help the boy who had been hit crossing the road.

Neither of them said anything, but Carmilla pulled an extra ice cream sandwich out of her jacket pocket and offered it to Laura.

Laura accepted it, but Carmilla didn’t let go, drawing Laura’s eyes up so that their gazes locked. Carmilla nodded once, firmly, and then let it go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you wanna come chill with me and get emotional about fictional characters, hmu at my tumblr [churchofyourcurves](http://churchofyourcurves.tumblr.com/)


	5. For who could ever learn to love a beast.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beauty and the Beast AU.
> 
> Laura reads to Carmilla.

Laura ran her fingers down the page, revelling in the texture of the yellowed page, teasing up the fine fibres of the paper and then smoothing them flat with her palm.

There was nothing in this world that Laura loved more than a book, the older the better, and the room she was in right now was paradise to her. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of shelves, all packed with books. When she’d first seen this room it had made her heart sing, and the singing hadn’t stopped since.

The door creaked open slowly, and Laura looked up from her book, her mouth falling into a gentle smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Carmilla stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other, and Laura couldn’t help but feel just a little charmed at the previously intimidating girl suddenly seeming so small. This was her library after all, it seemed odd that Carmilla was almost asking permission to enter.

Laura pulled out the chair next to her. “I’m reading ‘The Jungle Book’.”

Carmilla crept into the room slowly, her steps light and barely there against the wooden floorboards. Laura gave her the same encouraging smile that she’d give a wild animal she was trying to coax with food.

“What’s it about?” Carmilla asked, having reached the table but hesitating before taking a seat.

“The jungle.”

“Gee, I never would have guessed,” Carmilla said sarcastically, and that moment gave her the confidence to take a seat next to Laura, settling into the deep red velvet of the armchair with her eyes falling expectantly on Laura.

“You’re the one who asked,” Laura pointed out, but there was no bite to her words. She turned the page, settling on a new chapter, and started to read it aloud, “Veil them, cover them, wall them round...”

Carmilla turned her body towards Laura, pulling her legs up so that her knees were under her chin, and her arms were wrapped around her shins. Her head tilted against the back of the armchair, her eyes drifting from Laura’s face, down to the book, and back up. She let Laura’s voice envelop her, closing her eyes and letting the words paint a picture across the black canvas of her mind.

Two hours later, Laura closed the book and turned to see Carmilla sleeping against the chair, breathing deeply and evenly through slightly parted lips. Laura let her head rest against the back of her chair, so that their faces were level, and she felt her breathing start to match Carmilla’s.

It was odd, to share a moment of such intimacy with the girl who had once treated her with such disdain. The events that had brought them to this point felt like they’d happened a lifetime ago; her father’s trespassing, the deal struck with Carmilla to free him, the rules Carmilla had tyrannically declared, the loneliness.

Laura didn’t feel lonely anymore. Not right now, surrounded by thousands of books, with the afternoon sun dappling through the stained glass windows, and Carmilla asleep in front of her.

“Keep going,” Carmilla murmured against the cushion.

Okay, so not asleep.

She still hadn’t opened her eyes yet, so Laura hesitated.

Carmilla cracked an eye open, the yellow iris bright against the red of the velvet seat covering. “Please.”

“Okay,” Laura agreed, careful to keep her amused laughter from bubbling out of her mouth, capturing it in her chest and turning it into a radiating warmth that thickened her voice. She picked up the book from the table, opening it to where she was up to, and returning to her spot facing Carmilla.

Carmilla’s eye closed, and Laura continued to read.

\---

“You have a lot of books.”

Laura had expected Carmilla to make a sarcastic reply, but she stayed silent and Laura realised that she must have known there was more to Laura’s comment than the words. When Laura didn’t continue, Carmilla dipped her head into a slow nod. “I do.”

“You can’t...” Laura hesitated for a breath, unsure if finishing the sentence would ignite her temper. But the open look Carmilla gave her bolstered her confidence. “You can’t read.”

Instead of anger, or even embarrassment, Carmilla just nodded again. “These aren’t my books.”

“Whose are they?” Laura asked, moving slowly, testing out the boundaries of what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. She was never completely sure, always expecting Carmilla’s walls to go shooting back up.

“My family’s. Collected over many generations. The rarest, and most expensive books in the world live in this room.” Carmilla gestured lazily to the shelves. “Some of them, thought to be lost.”

“Why?” The question slipped out before Laura could screen it, but Carmilla didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s a lot easier to hold onto something when people don’t know you have it.”

“You’re worried about thieves? Here in your castle on high?”

Carmilla smiled wryly, her expression twisted by nostalgia and something darker. “We used to have grand balls, parties that would bring people from all over the kingdom.”

Laura tried to imagine the derelict castle holding parties, the tattered curtains and cobwebs swept aside for gilded decorations, with the sound of an orchestra swelling through the hallways, accompanied by the idle chatter of noble people.

“Feasts of food and wine and music that would carry on late into the night.” Carmilla’s mind was in another place now, Laura could almost see the wonder in her face at the memories.

“What happened?”

The wonder faded as Carmilla’s eyes returned to Laura, replaced by a quiet sadness that had taken Laura so long to find, peeling back the layers of anger and sarcasm with delicate hands.

“My family was murdered.”

Laura sucked in a breath. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“They...?”

“We,” Carmilla corrected.

The puzzle piece that Laura hadn’t been looking for suddenly slid into place. Her eyes traced the ridges that protruded from Carmilla’s brow, turning her forehead and eyebrows into a collection of deep lines and hard muscle that drew down sharply over her unnaturally yellow eyes, casting monstrous shadows across her face. Her eyes drifted down to Carmilla’s mouth, the teeth that were carved into dangerous points, perfect for tearing into flesh.

Laura was reaching to touch them before she even realised what she was doing, and she hesitated, her hand hovering inches from Carmilla’s face. Carmilla’s eyes bore into hers, and Laura felt like her breath had stopped.

Then something melted in Carmilla’s eyes and they closed, as she shifted forward almost imperceptibly - granting permission.

The space between them seemed larger than ever as Laura’s hand crept forward through the air, closing it felt like a lot more than just reaching for the vampire.

Laura’s fingers made contact with Carmilla’s skin, and she was surprised by how warm her skin was. She always thought of vampires as cold, like stone, but spending the day in the warmth of the library had left Carmilla’s skin at the same temperature as the velvet of the armchair.

Laura hadn’t reached for the ridges first, she’d started at Carmilla’s cheekbone. It was prominent, but not in a human way, in the way that it made her eyes look further sunken into a face of severe edges.

Carmilla’s skin was surprisingly soft - it felt like gossamer and ash under Laura’s fingertips, and Laura felt herself inexorably drawn in closer.

She skated her fingers to the side, and up, so that she traced a path around the outside of Carmilla’s still closed eyes. She realised that Carmilla was trembling under her touch.

She reached the edge of the brow ridge, and the rigidity of bone greeted her. By this point she had all but forgotten her earlier hesitation, and her other hand joined her, moving from either edge of the brow in to meet at the middle - where the ridges met in a cluster of mountains and valleys sculpted into bone, and draped in skin of silk.

When her hands met, she started to trace back out again, letting out a breath slowly, as if her lungs moved with her hands, and Carmilla’s eyes opened.

The yellow of her iris was too bright for amber, too deep for gold, and they held her with as much consideration as Laura’s hands explored with.

Under Carmilla’s gaze, Laura almost wanted to say something, but she didn’t want to far more. Words felt like they would break the fragility of this moment; and at the same time, the moment felt too powerful for words.

So, instead, Laura leaned forward and showed her in actions.

She brushed a light kiss against Carmilla’s right cheek, then drew back just enough so that as she moved to kiss Carmilla’s left cheek, the tips of their noses grazed. Then, she went up to Carmilla’s brow, her nose leading the way, skimming the path up, until her lips pressed to the ridges. One, two, three kisses across her brow.

One to the bridge of her nose, the base of the ridges.

Laura pulled back enough to lock eyes with Carmilla, brown on yellow, and then she leaned forward and kissed her lips. First her top lip, then her bottom, and then she pressed her mouth fully against Carmilla’s, firmly enough that she could feel the dagger-points of her teeth.

Carmilla’s mouth opened slightly, a further invitation, and Laura relaxed deeper into her, into the silken feel. The tips of Carmilla’s teeth pressed against her bottom lip, not piercing the vulnerable skin there, but simply being.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you wanna come chill with me and get emotional about fictional characters, hmu at my tumblr [churchofyourcurves](http://churchofyourcurves.tumblr.com/)


	6. Name Your Baby: 100,001 Baby Names For the Modern Family (and other idiotic parenting books).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pregnancy AU.
> 
> Carmilla and Laura have yet to come up with a name.

Laura walked her fingers slowly up the massive swell of Carmilla’s stomach, counting each step in her mind. Twenty-two steps from hip to hip. Three steps from the hem of her pants to the hem of her singlet. Ten steps from sternum to belly button.

Laura didn’t realise Carmilla was watching her until she spoke. “She likes when you do that.”

Laura smiled into Carmilla’s side. “I like doing it.”

Carmilla grimaced slightly, her hand pressing to the base of her stomach, and Laura knew that the baby must be moving.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm,” Carmilla hummed, offering a small smile, but it didn’t quite smooth the wrinkle between her eyebrows.

“Turn.”

Carmilla raised an eyebrow at Laura’s command, and Laura mimicked the movement back expectantly. With a tiny quirk of her lips, Carmilla obeyed and Laura started to work on her lower back, easing some of the tension from the muscles.

“How are you feeling?” Laura asked as she gently kissed Carmilla’s neck.

“Like I have a bowling ball pressed against my vital organs.”

Laura chuckled sympathetically, putting a bit more pressure into the sore muscles of her lower back. “We still have to come up with a name for her.”

“How about ‘pain in my ass’?”

“Pima for short?”

Carmilla let out a soft moan at the massage. “Perfect.”

A comfortable silence grew between them, filled with Laura concentrating on Carmilla’s back, and Carmilla relaxing into her.

“Do you think we’re ready for her?”

Laura’s voice pulled Carmilla from the alluring cotton cloud of sleep, and Carmilla had to replay the words in her head again before she could process what she’d said.

Carmilla turned the upper part of her body so that she could make eye contact with Laura. “Are you going to repaint the nursery again, cupcake?”

“No, I...” Laura frowned slightly. “Do you think I should?”

“I think three re-paints are probably enough.”

Laura blushed, and did her best to blink it away before she continued seriously, “You know what I mean.”

Carmilla grunted with effort as she turned her body to face Laura, a pained attempt that took an embarrassing amount of time. When she finally managed it, her stomach lay between them, but instead of an obstacle, it felt like something they shared. They both wrapped around it, the bottom half of their legs intertwined and Laura’s arm draped lightly over Carmilla’s side.

“You’re going to be a great mother, sweetheart,” Carmilla said earnestly.

Laura ducked under the praise, her face tilting down to hide the huge smile that Carmilla’s words had grown. When she’d tucked away the smile to a smaller, coyer state she replied, “So are you.”

Carmilla hummed and avoided Laura’s gaze.

“You _are_ ,” Laura insisted.

“As long as I don’t turn out like my mother,” Carmilla said, almost a joke, but the honesty behind it was so raw that they both felt as if something had brushed against an exposed nerve.

“Carm.” Laura’s hand lifted to Carmilla’s face, threading through her hair delicately. “You won’t. You aren’t anything like her.”

Carmilla hummed again and absently ran a hand over her stomach. Laura’s hand covered Carmilla’s, not stopping her movements, but joining them.

“I won’t let you,” Laura promised, “believe me. If you start being all ‘grr’ and manipulative, I will totally tell you.”

Carmilla’s hand shifted, interlocking her fingers with Laura’s and letting their hands come to rest on her stomach.

“As long as you tell me if I’m being too overprotective,” Laura added.

Carmilla smiled. “Deal.”

Under their palms, they both felt the baby kick, rising to meet them. Laura giggled, as she always did, and Carmilla smiled, as she usually did. (The kicking was less adorable when directed at her internal organs.)

Carmilla shifted her face forward, so that she was deep in the perfume of Laura’s hair. Laura had started using an unscented shampoo and Carmilla vastly preferred it. Instead of having to chase her scent out from an overlay of fruit and flowers, it was laid bare, and plucked at some deep note within her that helped her feel still, present, and loved. She murmured, “Just do me a favour, and when you repaint the nursery again stay away from vomit hues.”

“Name for the baby!” Laura exclaimed so enthusiastically that Carmilla groaned at the loudness.

“Vomit hues?” she asked, partially out of annoyance at Laura yelling in her ear, and partially because she was hilarious.

“Sorry,” Laura apologised quickly, almost off-handedly, as she dropped a kiss to Carmilla’s temple. “No, something to do with painting. You did start painting when you got pregnant.”

“I also painted when I got high in college.”

“We won’t mention that,” Laura dismissed it easily. “Come on! Maybe like a famous painter,” she drew out the ‘r’ sound as she thought of more options, “or a paint _ing_ , or an art gallery, I don’t know.” Her eager energy filled the space as her hands flitted about above them, laying all the options out across the ceiling. “What about Van Gogh? He did that starry night painting.” Laura’s voice lilted, as if changing the intonation of her words would cause Carmilla to catch her enthusiasm, “You like starry nights.”

Carmilla couldn’t hold back the love that bubbled up from her chest, filling her throat and mouth and finally spilling out with an, “I love you, creampuff.” Laura beamed, but Carmilla was quick to follow it up with, “But I am not naming our kid Vincent.”

“Not Vincent,” Laura said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not Van either.” Carmilla paused and then for good measure added, “Or Gogh.”

But Laura’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned as she continued to consider the possibilities. “What about Vanessa?”

There was a beat.

“I don’t hate it.”

Cheering as if Carmilla had given the name a ringing endorsement, Laura cuddled closer to her, peppering her face with kisses.

“We’ll see,” Carmilla said as she tried to avoid Laura’s flurry of kisses.

Laura finally let up, and gave Carmilla a look so warm that it made Carmilla’s chest feel like it would cave in under the weight. “I love you,” Laura said, a pure fact, with no intention or expectation. “I’m really happy.”

This was something they rarely said to each other, but not because they didn’t feel it. Rather, they were both well aware of it, so verbalising it seemed unnecessary most of the time. Carmilla put one hand on her stomach where she could feel their daughter shifting, and one along Laura’s jaw. She didn’t return Laura’s words verbally, but she did return Laura’s words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it! If you wanna come chill with me and get emotional about fictional characters, hmu at my tumblr [churchofyourcurves](http://churchofyourcurves.tumblr.com/)


End file.
